There is a silent man in a tower

Mute in a blinded world

Yet words dance on virgin lips

Freezing the winds of blood

Clad in layers of darkest velvet

Drenched in the gloomy light of dawn

All black

And in his wait for the grand finale

Standing atop of the stairs

From dawn to dusk his heart's ablaze

Uncovering words from an obsolete state of mind

Sharpen them, turn them into arrows

Descend into grief, without a bow no arrows fly

Bitter black

Passing through the ebony archways

Hand in hand with the wisdom of stars

Wisdom dressed in blackest array

There is no man in that tower

Walking the shores in black

Bitter frost now bite the walls of hope

No traces in the sand